his name is johnny he’s got nothing to say
|
he’s just a bad ass mutha getting’ in your face
|
you better hang you head low
|
low to the ground
|
‘cause we’re droppin’ mad tracks
|
until we’re feelin’ the sound
|
it’s the rhymes and the rhythms that you’re used to
|
with the one-two beats you can dance to
|
to see the people everywhere in the streets
|
doin’ time in the jail and whatcha wanta do cause you’re
|
running with a gun
|
running with a gun
|
running running
|
running with a gun
|
running with a gun
|
running running
|
running with a gun
|
running with a gun
|
running running
|
running with a gun in his hand
|
all of a sudden i said could you believe
|
all the corruption and the anger in a society
|
but the man his stand is near
|
whipping us all
|
all it’s armies and it’s leaders
|
startin’ to fall
|
no, you don’t know
|
no, you don’t know
|
what time it is
|
10 seconds flat said it’s what it would take
|
to make you move don’t hesitate
|
with the eyes and the cameras that are watching around
|
the enemy is near
|
and you’re to be found
|
dead or alive
|
make no mistake
|
they’re gonna blow your punk ass away
|
‘cause you’re
|
running with a gun
|
running with a gun
|
running running
|
running with a gun
|
running with a gun
|
running running
|
running with a gun
|
running with a gun
|
running running
|
running with a gun in his hand
|
running with a gun
|
running with a gun
|
running running
|
running with a gun
|
running with a gun
|
running running
|
running with a gun
|
running with a gun
|
running running
|
running with a gun in his hand
|
|
-----------------
|
Running With A Gun
|
| Slightly Stoopid |
